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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27194536">Resilience</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/MagnetoTheMagnificent/pseuds/MagnetoTheMagnificent'>MagnetoTheMagnificent</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Flufftober 2020 [25]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Good Omens - Neil Gaiman &amp; Terry Pratchett</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Back Pain, Caring Aziraphale (Good Omens), Chronic Illness, Cold-Blooded Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley Has Chronic Pain (Good Omens), Crowley Has a Bad Day (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley has IBS, Crowley's Flat (Good Omens), Disabled Crowley (Good Omens), Hurt/Comfort, Other, Stomach Ache</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 16:40:41</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>754</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27194536</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/MagnetoTheMagnificent/pseuds/MagnetoTheMagnificent</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Crowley is having a bad pain day, and Aziraphale cares for him.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Flufftober 2020 [25]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1952344</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>100</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Resilience</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Crowley was having a bad day. The changing weather always seemed to make everything worse, and that day was no different. He could hardly get out of bed, let alone leave his flat and pick up Aziraphale to take him to lunch like he promised. From his bedroom, he could hear his telephone ringing. It was his private line, meaning it was most likely Aziraphale. </p><p>Crowley cursed himself for not installing a telephone next to his bed. That would have been useful. He groaned as he heard the ringing stop. He really regretted not getting a mobile phone.<br/>
His back felt like daggers, or maybe a constant cannonball being shot at his spine. His head pounded behind his eyes, and his stomach felt like fire. He twitched from the pain, and tried to get comfortable. </p><p>It had been almost six thousand years that he had been dealing with it. He supposed he ought to get used to it. On good days the pain was like a dull shadow, and if he was really distracted might forget about it. But on bad days, on bad days it was like going through all the instruments of the Inquisition all at once. At least he wasn't in Hell. </p><p>In Hell, if he showed any sign of weakness, he'd be singled out like a plant that was beginning to yellow. He had to build a tough armour just to survive spending a day in Hell for a performance review. But enduring is tiring, and he was exhausted. At least Hell wouldn't be bothering him for the time being. </p><p> </p><p>He drifted in and out of consciousness. The pain was clouding his vision, and it was hard to concentrate on any coherent thought. </p><p>"Crowley?" a soft voice whispered. </p><p>He was vaguely aware of someone in his bedroom. He tried to focus on the face, but the room was spinning slightly. </p><p>"Oh, my dear boy, it's one of those days, isn't it?" </p><p>It was Aziraphale. Crowley tried to sit up, but it hurt too much.<br/>
A soft hand touched his cheek, and Crowley leaned into the touch. It was warm.</p><p> </p><p>Aziraphale's face was closer now, and Crowley could see lines of worry across his cheeks and forehead. He didn't like seeing Aziraphale worried. </p><p>"I'm fine," he muttered, echoing the phrase he'd repeated countless times over the centuries. </p><p>"No, you're not," Aziraphale said gently, "and you don't have to be." </p><p>He disappeared for a few moments, and Crowley almost panicked. When he returned, he carefully eased Crowley to the side and placed a heating pad underneath him. </p><p>"This should help with your back," he told him. </p><p>Crowley hissed slightly, but the heating pad did help, if only a minimal amount.</p><p>"S'good," he mumbled. </p><p>Aziraphale smiled, and that made Crowley happy. He liked it when Aziraphale smiled. </p><p> </p><p>"I hope you know that I'm perfectly happy just spending the day here," Aziraphale murmured. </p><p>"Or would you rather just sleep?" </p><p>Crowley shook his head painfully. </p><p>"Want to spend time with you," he croaked. </p><p>Aziraphale walked towards the small television in his bedroom. It was connected to a VCR, and existed solely to play the many titles Crowley had in his collection. </p><p>"Golden Girls?" Aziraphale asked as he knelt by Crowley's cassette collection. </p><p>"Head hurts too much to follow the plot," Crowley replied. </p><p>"Ah," Aziraphale nodded. </p><p>"So a mindless space opera?" </p><p>"It's called <i>Star Wars</i>, angel," Crowley corrected fondly. </p><p>"And yeah. Thanks." </p><p> </p><p>Aziraphale slid the cassette into the player, and returned to Crowley's side as the pre-film commercials began. </p><p>"Would you like to cuddle, or should I just sit nearby?" he asked. </p><p>"Hurts too much to cuddle," Crowley answered regretfully. </p><p>"That's alright. I'll just sit on the other bed, then," Aziraphale assured him. </p><p>"Thank you for everything," Crowley whispered, settling into his mattress. </p><p>"You're quite welcome, my dear. You've been so resilient all these years, but you've rarely let yourself be taken care of. You deserve to be cared for." </p><p>Crowley sighed, still unused to being treated with such care, even though Aziraphale had been so gentle with him for so many years. Hell had a way of hardening a person. What one might call resilience could be called passiveness by another. It was hard to believe he didn't deserve to be in pain. </p><p> </p><p>"I love you, Aziraphale," he managed to say. </p><p>"And <i>I</i> love you. Don't ever think you're not worthy of it." </p><p>Crowley shifted slightly. He might never fully believe it, but with Aziraphale, it was a lot easier to think he just might.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I've been having bad pain flare-ups lately with the changing weather, so this is a lot of projection.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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